


Subjected

by AuroraNova



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25513855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova
Summary: Julian and Garak are abducted for medical experimentation. Two things quickly become apparent: Julian is being used in some kind of breeding project, and all they have is each other.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 117
Kudos: 248





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ConceptaDecency](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConceptaDecency/gifts).



> I have never been terribly interested in mpreg as a reader or a writer, and was content as such. ConceptaDecency posted on Tumblr asking why mpreg is so scorned, my muse started thinking, "I don't write it, but if I did..." and here we are. I hope you enjoy, ConceptaDecency. 
> 
> Content warning: This fic will contain contemplation of abortion. If that is a sensitive subject for you, I recommend you stop reading now. On the opposite note, readers who are sensitive to being forced to carry an unwanted child may also wish to give this one a pass.

**Day 1**

Garak was not in the habit of looking for the good in a given situation. Nevertheless, if pressed to name one positive aspect of his resumed exile, he quite enjoyed the sex he and Julian were now having.

He wouldn’t go so far as to thank Dukat’s sister for exposing his decoding work during the war. She’d proclaimed that he permitted the Federation to kill thousands of Cardassians, entirely ignoring the fact that Garak wouldn’t have needed to if her brother hadn’t idiotically decided to join the Dominion. It was revenge for her father’s death, of course; that family never was able to accept their members’ shortcomings.

So the Dukats had their revenge at last, and Garak was not foolish enough to think his window of opportunity for sex with Julian would be anything but too brief. Still, he’d given up on Julian being willing years ago and was resolved to make the most of this tryst while he could.

It was another evening enlivened by Julian’s arrival at his quarters. Garak replicated dinner while asking, “And how was your afternoon with young Miss Idaris?” more to make polite conversation than out of any great interest in Dax and Worf’s progeny. (Though he did appreciate their business shopping for her clothing.)

“More tiring than last time I babysat. Not even four months old and she’s already crawling at a good clip. That’s her Klingon heritage for you.”

Garak hoped that didn’t mean Julian was too exhausted for sex. He’d been looking forward to it all day.

“Jadzia will be by your shop tomorrow to order baby clothes with more durable knees.”

“I’ll check my fabric inventory,” said Garak. Dax had been a good customer before she became a mother. Now she was unquestionable Garak’s best.

He placed the plates on the table, turned to the replicator for beverages…

…and the next second was somewhere else entirely.

Julian very sensibly tried to hit his combadge, only to discover their clothes had not made the trip with them. This was not at all how Garak envisioned divesting themselves of attire for the evening.

The room they were in was a half-circle perhaps a third again larger than Garak’s quarters, with lighting, temperature, and humidity exactly as Garak kept his for Julian’s visits, which was to say the settings they’d agreed on as a compromise. There was a spacious bed, a corner which proved upon brief inspection to be almost an exact replica of a Deep Space Nine lavatory, and neither a door nor a window so far as Garak could tell.

“Hello?” called Julian.

Garak started looking for any minute indications of an egress.

“Hello?”

“I don’t think anyone who abducts people without warning is liable to respond to polite overtures,” said Garak.

“We have to start somewhere,” countered Julian. “Look, they left us clothes.” He unfolded two pair of formless ivory trousers, followed by matching shirts and slippers.

“How considerate of them.”

“It’s better than being naked.”

Garak wasn’t sure he agreed, but his feet were getting cold and if their anonymous captors wanted him dead, there were more sensible means of achieving that than slippers. He reluctantly put on the horrible outfit before resuming his thorough inspection of the room.

Other than the lack of egress, it was an unremarkable room. Garak could find no observation devices or means to ensure compliance such as a deliver system for electrical shocks, though that didn’t mean they weren’t there, only that they were exceptionally well-hidden and their captors were therefore sophisticated. He did find running water and toothbrushes, not the kind of consideration one usually anticipated from kidnappers who, speaking in generalities, were not noted for great devotion to dental health among their victims.

“Have I missed the door?” asked Julian some minutes later. He’d been conducting his own inspection.

“Not as far as I can tell.”

“Well, we’re obviously here for a purpose. It stands to reason that whoever took us will make that purpose clear soon.”

“That doesn’t mean we’ll like it.” Garak was hard-pressed to think of any aim for which he’d approve of being stolen out of his quarters. He wondered if the transport had registered on Deep Space Nine, or if no one would begin to look for them until morning when Julian failed to show up in the infirmary.

Julian sat on the bed with an annoyed huff. “I know that, Garak. I just don’t see anything else we can do at the moment.”

Unfortunately, neither did Garak.

* * *

**Day 2**

“This doesn’t make any sense,” said Julian, prodding his lunch with a fork. It was an uncannily exact version of the Replimat’s Betazoid maritel casserole, including the crust Betazoid personnel usually agreed was slightly too soft for authenticity but Julian liked, which had been transported in moments earlier. “Whoever kidnapped us has taken pains to recreate our environment down to the meals but hasn’t given any indication of who they are or why they took us. What’s their goal?”

“Perhaps they’re communicating with Colonel Kira or Starfleet,” suggested Garak.

Julian hoped so. Everyone would be looking for them by now, without a doubt. He’d be perfectly happy to be rescued any time. All the same, it would be nice to have a bit of agency in his own situation, which was impossible at the moment, and if he felt that way Garak was probably thrice as displeased.

Life on DS9 had been slowly returning to something which vaguely resembled normal, if you imagined that Miles, Odo, and Captain Sisko all took leave at the same time, but of late there had been no particularly difficult misadventures. In retrospect, they were probably overdue.

A kotra set appeared in front of them. If the board hadn’t lacked a scratch from being throw across the room when Garak was recovering from the deactivation of his cranial implant, it could have been his, and he started at it intently.

“They want us to play kotra?” asked Julian.

“I have no intention of making this easy for our captors.”

“I didn’t say we should.”

At least the food was better than the Dominion had served.

* * *

**Day 3**

Julian spent the afternoon (or what they presumed to be afternoon, as it was difficult to be certain under the circumstances) elaborating on his theory that Earth’s so-called Enlightenment philosophers had counterparts in many other Federation cultures. Garak was at a disadvantage in this conversation, but he didn’t let his unfamiliarity with the nuances of Federation member worlds stop him from challenging Julian’s most obviously flawed points. He wanted to revisit some of them once he had an opportunity for research.

When the conversation reached a lull, Julian started doing lunges.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” asked Garak. Not that he objected to the view, mind you, but he wasn’t one to let his libido override strategic considerations.

“Exercise is important.”

Garak leaned over to murmur into Julian’s ear on the off chance doing so thwarted any listening devices. “It also ruins the element of surprise.”

“I’ll take your concerns under advisement,” said Julian. He used the tone which indicated actual consideration, so Garak had some hope he’d mind what he displayed. There was no reason to demonstrate their physical capabilities for their captors’ edification. That might prove a critical advantage later on.

Once Julian finished his exercises, he used the sonic shower, and they learned another peculiar feature of this kidnapping: there was a laundry service. Julian exited the lavatory to find fresh clothing waiting for him.

“This is the strangest abduction,” he said, and Garak couldn’t disagree.

Even though he was loathe to play into their captors’ hands, he would benefit from a shower and Julian had suffered no ill effects from his, so Garak reluctantly took a brief one. He did feel slightly better once clean and in a new, if identical, set of clothes. What he’d previously been wearing swiftly disappeared. He therefore considered races known to place high value on personal hygiene as potential captors, though this avenue was not as fruitful as might have been desired. To that moment, their experience did not strike Garak as familiar in any way, and since he was well-versed in the operations of various organizations and benefitted from an excellent memory even by high Cardassian standards, this was saying something.

A stack of books appeared. Julian immediately looked through them and declared, “Two Cardassian, translated into Federation Standard, and two human, in English. They know I can’t read Cardassi but you can read Standard.” And that English and Standard were similar enough for mutual comprehension, which in some circles was not as common knowledge as Garak might have expected. Their captors clearly weren’t Nausicaan.

“They’ve clearly done their research.” The Tal Shiar, perhaps. They were very thorough. Section 31 was a possibility, if a more distant one. Still, Garak’s instincts told him neither organization was responsible for his current situation.

“Garak, whoever took us is trying to make us feel at home.”

“It’s not working,” he replied, for their captors’ benefit.

“You’ll hate _Wuthering Heights_.”

Garak resolved to find some redeeming feature, no matter how small, in the book. Later. “Why do kidnappers try to make their victims comfortable?” he mused aloud. To gain the upper hand, of course, but the exact line of reasoning might prove illuminating.

Julian shrugged. “I’m not a psychologist, but I’d say to win sympathy or pretend they are kinder than your average kidnapper.”

No, not likely to be the Tal Shiar at all. Garak was truly at a loss, which he detested nearly as much as being abducted in the first place.

* * *

**Day 4**

One moment Julian was listening to Garak’s opinions (uncomplimentary, of course) on Starfleet dress uniforms: “…the previous design, I’m sorry to say, was preferable…” and the next he couldn’t move.

This was an extremely advanced transporter. It operated without a noticeable liminal phase, which Julian found disconcerting, though much less troubling than other, more pressing issues such as his inability to move from the neck down.

He took in what he could see, which wasn’t much. The ceiling and walls were the same shade of cream as the clothes he and Garak had been given, the room seemed much wider than it was long, and what appeared to be a large computer monitor on the wall displayed his vitals, or so he assumed from the heartrate monitor he could just make out. The lighting was bright and the temperature was about two degrees cooler than the room from which he’d been taken. Nothing struck him as familiar enough to guess who’d taken them, though he was going on very limited information.

There was a sound. Was this when he finally got to meet their captor?

He strained to see out of the corner of his eye. Yes, there. He could just make out a humanoid torso, although the movement didn’t align with bipedal locomotion. Whoever it was started speaking, or so Julian assumed from the chirping noises. The language wasn’t familiar to his UT, then. That was bad news for communicating. Subdermal UT implants were still in the experimental stage and Julian hadn’t been impressed with his when it came to learning new languages. According to the last update he’d read on the subject, subdermal UTs required much more exposure to have even a hope of translating an unknown language, and even then it was far from guaranteed. He wanted his combadge with its fully functional UT.

Well, he wanted a lot of things at the moment which he appeared unlikely to receive. Freedom, firstly.

A Starfleet officer was supposed to observe and gather information when placed in an unexpected situation. This was considerably more challenging when immersed in a paralytic field, but Julian did what he could. He’d never seen a race with skin this shade of lavender, nor eyes quite so squared off. Their captor was bald, with three antennae clustered on top of its head and a small mouth. Oh, and two sets of arms, it appeared, as Julian now saw four hands.

“What do you want from us?”

The chirping continued.

At a guess, he was being thoroughly scanned. Lacking any other option, Julian decided to try diplomacy, and therefore said, “If you’re interested in medical data, the Federation is always willing to consider open exchange of information.”

Nothing. It had been worth a try.

He was gone no more than two minutes before he found himself back in their room with an extremely concerned Garak.

“Were you harmed?”

Since he was once again able to move, Julian said, “No. I think…”

Evidently it was Garak’s turn now. Left alone, Julian sighed and mentally revisited hostile negotiation lectures from the Academy.

* * *

**Day 5**

Julian didn’t have any success in his second attempt to converse with their captor. Garak wasn’t surprised. They didn’t even know if the being could understand them. Garak, of course, had no hope of understanding the strange squeaks which likely comprised their abductor’s language. He did not have the benefit of Starfleet’s latest translation technology being embedded into his body the way Julian did. At the time Julian received his translator implant, Garak had been skeptical, as an implant hadn’t worked out overly well for him. Now he was grateful at least one of them had a remote chance of communicating with this alien.

As for Garak, he made no more progress in forming an escape plan. The only way out, barring perhaps possession of a very strong torch to cut the wall (which was undesirably risky when any given wall could be exterior on a ship), was by transporter. Being unable to move while under examination did not give Garak any opportunity to overpower this alien. Having been held in paralysis twice now, he assumed this was likely to be their captor’s standard procedure.

In short, the situation was dire.

Undoubtedly Kira and Dax would be hard at work looking for them, and Worf keen to battle for their freedom, but their abductor had superior technology at its disposal and Garak was perfectly well aware that the longer they went without rescue, the worse their odds became. If Julian knew this statistical fact, he chose to ignore it.

Thus far, too, Julian had been right. Garak hated _Wuthering Heights_. He was not remotely impressed with the desolation of moors, and the only character he liked was the dog.

He had planned to ignore the books, but conceded to read because the potential benefits (providing their captor with information sufficient to alter the situation, should this prove a strange form of first contact, and avoiding punishment should not reading displease their captor) outweighed the risk (providing sufficient information and being killed as no longer useful, which seemed unlikely after the trouble their kidnapper had taken).

“How did you finish this insipid, depraved book?” he asked.

Julian looked up from the enigma tale he’d selected. “I haven’t read it. I once had a date take me to a theatre performance of _Wuthering Heights_. When you’re done, I’ll read it.”

Garak thought even Shakespeare would be a better play than this. But if their kidnapper thought the books were lulling him into a sense of complacency, it was entirely mistaken.

* * *

**Day 6**

Julian had been in worse situations. Namely, Internment Camp 371 while a Changeling stole his life and tried to blow up the Bajoran sun. In that case, as bad as it had been, he’d known who took him and why. This time, he had nothing but questions.

“The same?” he asked when Garak materialized lying on the bed.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“I think they have six legs.” He’d need a slightly better glance to be certain. It would fit with the body movement he’d seen peripherally, so it was a solid working theory with absolutely no practical value. He didn’t even know if they were seeing the same individual every day or not.

“Your translator hasn’t made any progress?” asked Garak.

“Don’t you think I would’ve led with that?”

Julian knew Garak was not happy about his own lack of translator, but there was nothing to be done about it. ‘Nothing to be done about it’ summed up their entire situation, in fact, and Garak didn’t handle powerlessness well.

Meanwhile, Julian was thoroughly sick of being kidnapped. The last few years he’d had more than his fair share of it. It’d taken him nearly a year to truly recover from his time in Dominion custody, even if he’d never admitted as much to anyone and spent the first months not even admitting the problem to himself. Then Section 31 came along, and his quarters had never seemed quite as safe after that. Now this. How many times could a person be kidnapped before they constantly feared it? Julian worried he’d find out.

* * *

**Day 7**

Julian was not back on time.

The previous three days Julian had been transported away for approximately two minutes, followed immediately by Garak’s turn to be examined. It had been at least twenty minutes now and Julian was still absent from their room (or, more accurately, their generously furnished prison cell).

If one of them was to be tortured or killed, Garak would much prefer it to be him. That this went against everything Tain had ever taught him – namely, how he ought only to sacrifice himself for Cardassia or the Order, as his life was not worth any lesser cause - did not bother Garak in the least. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly when Julian’s life came to mean more than his own. In any event, it did, and unlike Garak, Julian had a promising future if he survived their current predicament. Garak would not hesitate to sacrifice himself, but at the moment lacked even that option.

Finally Julian materialized on the bed. Unlike previous occasions, he was not conscious. Where did humans check for a heartbeat? The neck. Garak thus put one hand on Julian’s chest to confirm it continued to rise and fall with each breath, and the other on his neck.

Julian was indeed breathing, but Garak couldn’t find a heartbeat. He was therefore much relieved to hear Julian murmur, “Wrong spot.”

“What?”

“Your fingers are too low to check my pulse.” He proceeded to guide Garak’s hand to the correct spot for future reference Garak sincerely wished not to need.

“What did they do to you?”

“I don’t know. I was sedated almost instantly. How long was I gone, anyway?”

“Over twenty minutes.” More or less. It became difficult to judge time without any external indicators.

Julian sat up and winced. Garak wanted to kill their captor(s) even more than he already had. “What is it?”

“Without a tricorder, I can’t say for certain. My abdomen is sore.” He gingerly ran his hands over the area. “Nothing feels ruptured, at least. Twenty minutes, you said? Presuming the chirping noises are in fact speech, that will give my UT more with which to work.”

Only Julian Bashir could be subjected to an unknown but clearly invasive procedure and manage to look on the bright side.


	2. Chapter 2

**Day 10**

Their captor seemed to have lost interest in Garak. Julian’s brief daily stints in the paralytic field had resumed – thankfully, there had been no further surgeries – but Garak was left alone, and he did not take this as good news. Worse, Julian had been notably tired since the as-yet unknown procedure.

“Were you harmed?” asked Garak as soon as Julian returned to their prison room. He’d been asking that entirely too often.

“No. My UT is starting to make progress. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“It gave me a low-confidence warning.”

“I see.” Garak did not find that especially encouraging. “And what does it have low confidence might have been said?”

“A few words here and there, no complete sentences. ‘Subject’ came up multiple times. I’m increasingly sure the entire purpose of our abduction is medical experimentation.”

To what end, Garak wondered. There were any number of possibilities, none of them appealing, and then there was the matter of not having any idea where they were by now. A ship could be many light-years from Deep Space Nine and the entire Bajoran sector, making a rescue much more difficult. They could not count on being saved by anyone else. If they were going to face a future other than subjects of medical experiments, they’d have to secure it themselves.

“Medical experimentation fits the facts,” he said.

“In order of decreasing use,” Julian continued, “the other words are: ‘blood,’ ‘expected,’ ‘accepted,’ ‘development,’ and ‘cell.’

“I will leave drawing conclusions about these experiments to your professional expertise, but do keep me informed of your theories.”

“Of course.” Julian leaned back on the bed. “The UT should keep adding words and gaining confidence now.”

They could deal with that later. For now, Garak had a more pressing concern. “You are still in pain.”

“No.” At Garak’s disbelieving look, Julian insisted, “Really. A bit of discomfort, yes, but it’s not truly painful.”

“I know I’m not the one who went to medical school, but isn’t discomfort still a bad sign?”

“It’s not uncommon after a surgery, particularly without any kind of ongoing pain management. Don’t catastrophize, Garak. Our situation is already bad enough without imagining it worse.”

What he called catastrophizing, Garak called realistic concern. However, Julian was the one in which their captor was particularly interested, and if he needed to focus as always on the positives, Garak would grant him the kindness of keeping his own more worrisome thoughts to himself. There was nothing else he could do for Julian at the moment.

* * *

**Day 11**

Julian didn’t like their captor’s life expectancy if Garak had his way. It was actually rather sweet how enraged Garak was that Julian had been operated on, though Julian doubted Garak would take being called sweet as a compliment. It did his heart good to know how much Garak cared, anyway.

Jadzia had probably been right when she told him to stop fooling himself that he was just having sex with Garak. That was a conversation he and Garak would need to have eventually, under better circumstances.

Having covered _Wuthering Heights_ in much greater detail than usual owing to their abundance of free time (Garak did indeed loathe it, and maintained that all the trouble could’ve been avoided if Earnshaw hadn’t encouraged Heathcliff to aspire above his station in life), they’d moved on to the enigma tale. Julian had managed to figure out two of the crimes before the author’s reveal. The genre was more enjoyable once you stopped looking at an enigma tale as a story and instead approached it as a puzzle. He hadn’t grown to truly relish them, as Garak had hoped or at least proclaimed to hope, but he could appreciate the challenge.

“I still don’t see how I was supposed to know Norun destroyed a military archive,” he said. Cardassians viewed destruction of records as a more serious crime than Julian was accustomed to – unless it was committed by the state, in which case it was surely justified, though Garak’s argument on that exception was tellingly uninspired and lacking in passion.

“You weren’t necessarily. You were, however, expected to deduce that her crime was committed in an attempt to shield her son from the consequences of his ineptitude.”

Julian hadn’t gotten that, either. “What exactly was supposed to clue me in?”

“You mean besides her son’s clear lack of talent?”

“It’d have been helpful if Shoggoth actually made it clear he was unfit for his job before the third-to-last page.”

“It was clear much earlier.”

“So you say, but you haven’t actually told me how.”

“His taxes were late,” said Garak, as though this explained anything at all.

“I’m sorry, what does that have to do with failing to adhere to safe antimatter handling procedures?”

“Anyone who can’t accomplish the simple task of filing a tax form annually cannot be trusted with something so delicate as antimatter.”

Julian didn’t see what one had to do with the other. Before he could reply, though, he yawned. Ever since the surgery he was actively trying not to think about since he could not do a thing to treat himself, he’d been far more tired than usual. Hopefully it was a sign that his body was recovering from whatever had been done to him.

Garak seemed to take it as a sign that every last person involved in their captivity should be killed immediately. The thing with Garak was, he didn’t invest himself in very many people, but once he did, nothing was off the table.

“Perhaps we should continue this discussion after you’ve rested.”

Julian wanted to protest. Unfortunately, he felt close to sleep, so he nodded and lay down. His last thought before drifting off was that knowing how strongly Garak felt about his wellbeing was worth a little discomfort.

* * *

**Day 13**

Garak had once again failed to find surveillance devices. If he knew where they were, he might be able to start working around them to create some kind of weapon. Admittedly, a weapon wouldn’t do him any good while held in a paralytic field, but possessing one would be a start. He thought he could work with parts from the lavatory for a crude shiv. Or, if their captor did not count bones after dinner to make sure the number matched what had been delivered, he could slip one up his sleeve and sharpen it. Even a jagged broken bone would be better than nothing.

At this rate, he might try retaining a bone and seeing what happened.

Julian returned from his daily time in the lab visibly distressed. “What’s the matter?” asked Garak, truly loathing his powerlessness. “Did it hurt you?”

Julian shook his head. Garak remained unconvinced, as he knew perfectly well there were many ways to inflict suffering without even a twinge of physical pain. “My UT learned more words.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”

“‘Embryo’ and ‘womb,’” said Julian flatly.

Garak suddenly needed to sit down.

“Combined with the other words, such as ‘accepted,’ I’d say they implanted me with a uterus and embryo. It’s possible, although humans have found bioartificial wombs easier to manage due to the complex…”

Garak was usually inclined to let Julian ramble, as he enjoyed the passion with which he spoke, but now was not the time. “Julian.”

“Right. I’m nearly certain I’m pregnant. I imagine it’s theirs. I don’t even know if it’s _mine_ , and what kind of people do this to someone?”

Offering comfort was not Garak’s strong suit. Nevertheless, he would try. “My dear,” he said softly, “I am sorry.”

“It ought to be easily removed, but we have to get out of this damn place first.” Julian sounded very near to panic. Understandably so. This was an immense violation. On the whole, a sound beating would’ve been preferable (particularly if Garak was able to receive it instead). “We have to find a way, Garak. I can’t stay here and have some alien kidnapper’s child for God knows what purpose.”

“No,” agreed Garak for lack of anything else worth saying. What words could possibly improve the situation?

“Who does this?”

“I don’t know.”

Julian was silent for a long time after that, and Garak had no idea if it was good or bad.

* * *

**Day 14**

“Why are you doing this?”

Chirp. Chirp. “Embryo.” Six different chirps. “Subject A.” Chirpity chirp.

“I at least deserve an answer, dammit!”

Julian didn’t get one. He was transported back to their prison room without further ado.

Garak had palmed a druna bone from his lunch, but it disappeared when the dishes were taken away. If his best plan had been to steal a ten-centimeter bone, Julian didn’t know what they were going to do.

He couldn’t bear to think about what would happen if they didn’t find a way out.

“Have I ever told you about the time I won second place in a Romulan topiary competition?” asked Garak once he made sure Julian hadn’t been hurt.

“You know you haven’t.”

As attempts to give Julian something else to think about went, this was fairly transparent. He’d take it anyway. He was running mental circles with the same thoughts over and over: _No. I can’t do this. We have to escape._ Listening to Garak weave a tale, and wondering just how much of it was invented versus heavily embellished, was a welcome change of pace even if Julian’s heart wasn’t entirely in it.

“…and you know Romulans will take any opportunity to cheat if they believe they can get away with it.”

“I’m sure you would never even think of such a thing.”

“Certainly not. There were no prohibited extensions on my tools, I assure you.”

At least he had Garak around to make sure he kept a firm grip on sanity.

* * *

**Day 17**

Julian was asleep again. He couldn’t get through the day without a nap, which he insisted was not an unduly alarming side effect of his sudden pregnancy (“my body isn’t designed for this, of course it’s overtaxed”) but Garak found cause for yet more concern.

Garak took this opportunity to chip away at a small piece of metal he’d liberated from the toilet. It hadn’t been confiscated yet – perhaps their captor was unfamiliar with the plumbing – and thus remained his best hope of doing anything productive about the situation. He’d also discovered that they were given the same two sets of clothing repeatedly. This suited him, because it allowed him to rip a small hole in the cuff of his sleeves in which he could store his proto-weapon.

The fact that he was able to do this indicated that the surveillance was not as omnipresent as he’d first assumed. Or that their captor was so confident as to be unconcerned, but hubris on the part of his enemies had helped Garak before. He would not discount its utility.

Garak’s theory held that eventually there would be a break in the routine which would present him with an opportunity to escape. His experience – and that of many generations of Order agents – had proven this to be the case. Therefore, it was a matter of being ready to seize his chance. A small sliver of metal was a poor weapon, yes, but a poor weapon was considerably better than no weapon.

Besides, Garak’s body was a weapon in its own right. When the time came, he would be ready.

* * *

**Day 20**

Julian’s UT had picked up enough words by now that he was certain their captor wasn’t speaking to him. Rather, they were recording notes or a medical log, and it was infuriating. The entire situation was, of course, but to be treated as though he wasn’t a sentient being worthy of acknowledgement was a special kind of insult.

He also felt reasonably confident he saw the same individual every day, though there could be hundreds of others just outside the infirmary for all he knew. He hoped not. That would make an escape or rescue much harder. And one or the other _was_ going to happen.

Having satisfied their captor’s research requirements for the day, Julian was returned to their room, where Garak was taking a sonic shower. He’d started doing that in the hopes that their abductor’s attention would be on Julian and not notice his painstaking work toward a shiv. So far, so good on that front.

“The subject’s body continues to accept the womb and embryo,” Julian reported crossly. He’d hoped that wouldn’t be the case. It was still early enough that a miscarriage wouldn’t be uncommon, but this captor clearly knew their stuff. Julian would venture to guess they had either incredibly advanced medical technology, a wealth of research about human physiology (obtained how, he did not know), or both.

“I see.”

“The subject would also appreciate being spoken to as the intelligent being he is, as opposed to treated like a lab rat.”

“That’s the least of our concerns,” said Garak. He was probably right, but it made Julian’s list of grievances all the same.

Higher up that list was his exhaustion. Bad enough that he was forced to carry an alien child, it now seemed as though this invader was draining his energy away. ‘Angry’ did not even begin to cover Julian’s emotional state.

He yawned. It was clearly nap time, as much as Julian hated needing them, so he lay on the bed. Tired as he was, he wanted something else.

Trouble was, Julian wasn’t great at saying he needed physical touch in the first place, much less to Garak who would probably deem it a horrible weakness. He found a compromise of sorts. Once Garak sat on the bed with one of their new books, Julian threw out his knee so it was just a few centimeters away from Garak’s calf. It wasn’t touch, but knowing how near Garak was would have to do for now.

* * *

**Day 22**

Julian wanted something. Other than to be free and rid himself of the unwanted embryo, that was. Whatever he desired, and Garak hadn’t the slightest idea, this had been going on for a few days now. His subtle inquiries had apparently been too subtle for Julian.

Finally, when Julian once again failed to hide a longing look, Garak decided this had gone on long enough. He set down the book and asked, “Is there something I can do for you?”

After a strained pause, Julian finally said, “If it’s not an imposition. It’s just that you usually touch me.”

Garak would not want to be touched after such a violation of his body as Julian was experiencing and had therefore been carefully avoiding it. He placed a hand on Julian’s leg. “I had thought you would prefer I didn’t.”

Julian slid closer. “Not at all.”

This gave Garak a way to be of use, which he appreciated. A very small way, perhaps, but better than nothing, and contact with Julian was the furthest thing from hardship. When Julian moved his hand, Garak grasped it with his own and was gratified that doing so brought a slight smile to Julian’s face.

“Thank you,” said Julian.

“I’m glad to be of service.”

“Always with the service.”

“I don’t hear you complaining at the moment.”

“Oh, no,” said Julian. “Not at all. Now, is there going to be a plot to this four-hundred-page novel eventually? Because I’m nearly done chapter two and nothing has happened.”

Before bed that night, Garak experimentally rolled on his side and gave a look of invitation. Julian wasted no time accepting by sidling up and pressing himself close. Garak couldn’t remember the last time someone had found emotional comfort from him in this manner – he wasn’t sure anyone ever had – and thought this particular form of service was exceptionally rewarding.

* * *

**Day 24**

In a much-needed bright spot amidst the current situation, it turned out Garak wasn’t averse to a bit of cuddling. Julian found that when the lights went out, he didn’t feel quite so alone if Garak’s body was pressed up against his, and ever since he’d made it clear what he wanted, Garak had resumed little touches throughout the day. This small slice of normality was a lifeline.

The daily checkups continued, and Julian wanted to throttle their captor more every time.

“Embryo requires… needs of species… subject’s body.”

This chirp-filled sentence was followed by a what Julian guessed to be a hypospray injection to his abdomen. A non-human embryo (or half-human; he really had no idea and didn’t know which would be worse) would have different requirements for optimal development, so this made perfect medical sense.

“Development… faster than anticipated… success.” With that, Julian was once again in their prison room.

“The mad scientist is very happy,” he reported.

Garak sat on the bed and placed a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. It means there is every reason not to inflict further harm upon you.”

“Easy for you to say.”

For a moment Julian thought Garak was about to argue the point. Instead, he said, “Get some rest,” and stayed put in the brief time it took before Julian was asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Day 45**

Julian’s appetite had disappeared. Whether this was a symptom of pregnancy or despair, Garak couldn’t say, but either way it was a bad sign when Garak finished his breakfast first. Julian idly stirred his oatmeal instead of eating it. The dish was revolting enough hot; Garak did not imagine it would be improved when cold and congealed.

Finally, when his half-eaten meal had been transported away, Julian said, “I don’t think the search for us can stay active much longer, if it still is.”

“Dax and Kira have never struck me as the type to give up.” In fact, Garak respected that the colonel’s tenacity remained steadfast even in the face of immense adversity.

“No, but there’s only so long they can make rescue a priority before they have to face reality, and they can’t leave my post empty indefinitely.”

He was right, and Garak had stopped relying upon rescue weeks ago. Generally he preferred not to depend upon others for his wellbeing in the first place, though he would very much have liked for Dax and Kira to show up.

Garak was used to taking the realistic (pessimistic, according to Julian) side in their conversations. He didn’t know how to go about offering hope, not least without giving their captors a hint that he was waiting for them to grow complacent and make a heedless error. He lacked Julian’s gift for inspiring belief in the best possible outcome.

While he was not carried away by optimism, Garak believed that everyone made mistakes, and in his own ability to make good use of the slightest blunder made by their captor. His slip of metal was growing sharper daily and had not been confiscated. This was as much good news as he could reasonably expect. He was, as ever, under no illusions.

“The colonel and the commander are formidable women,” he said.

Julian nodded forlornly.

Garak would secure Julian’s freedom or die in the attempt. 

* * *

**Day 47**

“Embryonic development proceeding acceptably. Nutritional supplement *chirp* sufficient.”

“That’s a relief, I was worried about it.”

Julian’s resort to sarcasm either didn’t translate or was beneath their abductor’s concern. His UT had at last gotten a handle on the majority of this new language. The developers would no doubt be pleased, if – no, when – Julian returned to tell them about it.

“Subject’s stress hormones require *chirp* observation for adverse effects on the embryo.”

“Have you considered you own role in provoking my stress?”

“No sign of genetic incompatibility. Scans suggest that Subject A’s genetic inheritance will be *chirp* favored in the vascular system, which is to be expected from the gestational parent.”

So the embryo was his. Julian wasn’t surprised, just continually enraged that another scientist turned him into an experiment. Once had been more than enough. Also, his DNA was a bit of a sensitive subject, so stealing it for some kind of sick breeding program… he was feeling queasy, and he didn’t think it was due to the pregnancy. If so, it was a new symptom.

“Subject B’s contribution to the genome is *chirp* obvious in the skeletal system. Early indications suggest ocular ridges will be *chirp* pronounced.”

Wait – the embryo was his and _Garak’s?_

“The offspring will likely require *chirp* intervention to reproduce with either of the parent species.”

Julian’s initial shock was followed by relief. Not that he wanted to have a baby, but in the current circumstances, having Garak as the other father was much preferable to having their captor’s progeny growing inside of him. It was still a very bad situation, but the horror had been dialed back a half notch.

Whether Garak agreed was another matter. Julian must’ve looked shocked, because he’d hardly landed on their bed when Garak asked, “Did something new happen?”

The words didn’t come out. Julian had only just learned this news himself and hadn’t begun to process it. But Garak always was too perceptive. Having no hope of convincing him with a lie, Julian deflected. “The mad scientist is concerned about potential harm to the embryo caused by my stress. Imagine that, being abducted, confined, and forced to carry a pregnancy causing stress.”

“What is the universe coming to?”

He’d give himself a day to wrap his head around this news before sharing. It was his body being taken over, after all; surely a day wasn’t too much to ask.

* * *

**Day 48**

“I have to tell you something.”

Had good news ever followed that statement? Garak doubted it. “Yes?”

Julian took his time speaking again. He fidgeted, lying on his side but not closing the final distance between them. “Based on what I’ve heard, I believe the embryo was conceived using my DNA, and yours.”

Garak could only stare for a long moment. Yes, it had been a theoretical possibility, but not one either of them seriously considered. To have Julian carrying his child…

No. Garak did not allow himself to finish the thought. He could not think in those terms. This was a collection of cells forced upon Julian against his wishes, and which was clearly damaging his health. In fact, it was more akin to a tumor than a child, and Garak would do well to remember that. Julian intended to terminate the pregnancy at his earliest opportunity and was well within his rights to do so. Whatever Garak might have liked was absolutely irrelevant.

“This does not fundamentally alter the circumstances, does it?” he asked, for the sake of being certain.

“Well, no. I just thought you ought to know.”

Garak nodded. It was as he’d thought.

Julian grimaced. He’d been experiencing abdominal cramps in the evenings recently. And here was what mattered: Julian’s suffering. No, Garak would give no indication whatsoever that he would not be so hasty to end the pregnancy. It was not his decision to make, and adding guilt to Julian’s burden would not do at all.

He moved nearer and put an arm around Julian. Words of comfort were one of his weaker points, to be sure, but he’d been having more success with hugs. Once again, he felt a bit of the tension in Julian’s shoulders ebb away. Never all of it. That would be expecting too much at the moment.

“We don’t matter to them,” Julian said. “We might as well be a bacteria culture in a petri dish.”

That continued to bother him far more than Garak. Whether or not their captor considered him worthy of respect mattered not at all. In fact, he would prefer to be underestimated, and the sooner the better.

* * *

**Day 50**

“How long is the average Cardassian gestational period?” Julian asked.

“Ten and a half kanets. One week short of eight Earth months, give or take a day.”

As a doctor, it bothered him to no end that he didn’t know the specifics of what was happening in his own body. He was therefore eager to gather any information which might prove enlightening.

Garak had taken the news of his genetic contribution to the embryo with relative equanimity. Knowing his habit of considering every contingency, he’d likely never dismissed the possibility the way Julian had, and anyway, when it came to being coolly pragmatic, Vulcans had nothing on Garak.

Though Julian couldn’t imagine Lieutenant Sypek being so willing to cuddle at night.

“I’m afraid I am no expert on the subject,” added Garak.

“Hybrid pregnancies are large part educated guesses anyway.” To Julian’s knowledge, there weren’t and had never been any half-human, half-Cardassians alive, though he couldn’t claim to have done exhaustive research.

“I recall that from your remarks on Commander Dax’s.”

“Darilla is probably walking by now,” said Julian, thinking of Jadzia and her daughter.

“Is it just me, or does the name Darilla Idaris not exactly roll off the tongue?”

This was clearly Garak attempting to make casual conversation. Julian appreciated the attempt even if it hadn’t entirely succeeded at distracting him. “Jadzia wanted to use her family name, seeing how Worf doesn’t go by his.”

“He has one?”

“Legally, yes. Rozhenko. He was adopted by humans, you know.”

“I am aware. His mother brought a torn skirt to be mended when she was on the station. I did not know he formally took their name.”

“Like I said, he doesn’t use it.” The Rozhenkos had visited several weeks after Darilla’s birth and proved to be adoring grandparents, as well as extremely willing to offer up the pictures of Worf as a boy which Jadzia requested. As far as Julian could tell – and he could have been very wrong – they did not seem offended that Worf eschewed their surname in favor of his biological patronymic. “So, Jadzia’s family name, and Worf wanted to honor his birth mother. That’s how they ended up with Darilla Idaris.”

“I see.”

What Julian wouldn’t give to be back on DS9 with his friends right now. He’d let Jadzia rope him into babysitting for two weeks straight if it meant he and Garak were home again. Although he probably shouldn’t mention that to her if they did get out of here unless he was entirely serious. You always had to be careful giving Jadzia ideas.

* * *

**Day 52**

“I’m sorry, Garak, but that is complete rubbish.”

Even in these poor circumstances, Garak enjoyed seeing Julian grow invested in a good argument. His passion was as enthralling as ever.

“The point is _not_ that the Earth-Romulan War was arranged as a ploy to form the Federation, and there is not one shred of evidence in the text for your outrageous theory.”

There really wasn’t. Garak was not about to let that get in the way of a pleasant diversion, so he’d invented some evidence with an extremely creative interpretation of the novel’s events. The conversation was what mattered. Besides, Julian needed something new to think about.

“Outrageous? Are you suggesting that at no time in the course of human history has a common enemy been used to unite otherwise disparate groups?” This was the beauty of Garak’s argument. It rested on solid historical precedent.

“Of course that’s happened. It doesn’t mean we _started a war_ so we could ally with the Vulcans, who were already our allies, by the way, along with the Andorians and Tellarites.”

“I’ve been led to believe the Earth-Vulcan alliance was strained at this period in time on account of perceived Vulcan paternalism.”

“Not so strained we needed to fight a war,” said Julian. “And I’m still waiting for you to tell me where you got this from the book.”

“Admiral Worthington’s communications with General Vord. You will recall they alluded to routine exchanges of information. Why bother, if Tellarites were not part of the war effort?”

“You mean other than the fact that Tellar was concerned about Romulans lurking just over their border?”

“A mere pretext.”

Before he could reply, Julian winced.

“What’s wrong?” asked Garak.

“I don’t know. It could be a mineral deficiency, the additional blood vessels, simple pressure on my organs… any number of things, really.”

Once again, Garak was stuck in wretched uselessness, which he despised as much as captivity.

* * *

**Day 53**

Julian had hoped breakfast would be scones with yogurt and fruit. Instead, they got omelets. Eggs were never his favorite in the first place, and he presumed omelets were in rotation because Garak liked them. Worse still, this one had mushrooms in it, which was not a good combination in Julian’s opinion.

“I take it breakfast is not to your liking,” said Garak.

“If we’re going to have omelets, I’d at least like to omit the mushrooms.”

“Speak for yourself. They add an enjoyable depth of flavor.”

They added flavor, alright. It was unfortunately the wrong kind for breakfast. Julian didn’t hate mushrooms, he just preferred them raw and especially not paired with eggs. As unappetizing as the dish was, he started tucking it in. Skipping meals was bad for the baby.

The meaning of that thought blindsided him. Since when did he care about the baby’s health? For that matter, when had he started thinking of the embryo – a fetus now, really - as a baby? Just then, apparently. This wasn’t the first time he had a subconscious thought suddenly bubble to awareness in the form of shocking realization. It happened to him quite a lot, actually. He suspected he did most of his consideration on emotional topics subconsciously. It had never been about a decision of this magnitude, however.

Julian had never particularly wanted a child. Children were adorable and charming for short periods, but also the biggest commitment a person could make, and there was no backing out if you decided fatherhood wasn’t for you. He hadn’t wanted to take that on. It would upend his life and make him significantly less free to do as he liked.

It didn’t seem like a life sentence now, though. Maybe this was because he’d seen the positive sides of parenthood with Miles and now Jadzia, or maybe it was a function of being in his mid-thirties and more mature.

Did Garak want a child? He’d not once mentioned a desire, but that meant exactly nothing. A baby seemed like the kind of liability Garak wouldn’t want for his life – weakness, etc – but Julian couldn’t be sure until he asked. And then watched very carefully for clues Garak was lying.

Before he did, it would be best to get his own thoughts in some semblance of order. A child would change everything. Not to mention, how would people as different as he and Garak compromise on the myriad matters related to a child’s upbringing? (The four nights Worf spent sleeping on the _Defiant_ because he planned for his then-unborn daughter to study martial arts whether she wanted to or not came to mind.) Could they do right by a child? Come up with at least the broad strokes of a joint parenting plan? Would Garak insist on raising a child to think sacrifice for the state was the highest ideal one to which could aspire in life?

He had a great deal to consider. He was so deep in thought, in fact, that he hardly even noticed the mushrooms in his omelet.

* * *

**Day 56**

Garak’s blade was as sharp as he could make it, which was not as sharp as he would have preferred. Still, it was a weapon and he wasn’t in a position to be choosy.

He got in a few discrete practice thrusts in the guise of repositioning his body for a thorough shower. To make the most out of any weapon, the wielder needed to know it intimately. The less technologically advanced the instrument in question, the more important it was to take its full measure. Any imbecile could use a disruptor or a Starfleet phaser with reasonably good results. A knife, or in this case a shiv, was a different story.

Now, if he kept it concealed between his fingers and flung his hand just so…

He was in the lab, and after a second there was nothing stopping him from moving. He seemed to have lost his shiv, but no matter. He leapt off the table. While his captor was still squawking in surprise, Garak pounced and wrapped his arms around its neck with the ease of a man who’d spent weeks working out in detail exactly how he would do this if given the opportunity.

It wasn’t even a challenge. Not only was this alien entirely unversed in self-defense, it was physically weak. He wrenched his arms and the neck snapped easily.

The alien hadn’t been armed as far as he could see, which was a pity as it meant there was nothing Garak could claim as his own. He let the body fall to the floor and went to reclaim his meager weapon before anyone else came in. On inspection, however, he saw what had happened: the transport had picked him up mid-motion and taken his blade along. While the paralytic field halted the movement of Garak’s hand, it had not constrained the shiv, which lodged itself in an apparently delicate piece of machinery. The point of his makeshift dagger shorted out the paralytic field. What astonishing luck.

He left the blade where it was.

As much as he wanted to free Julian, he could not do so if he allowed himself to be recaptured. His first priority, therefore, was to prepare for the appearance of reinforcements. To that end, he observed the room with a critical eye to maintaining his freedom.

There was only one door, all the way to his left. Unfortunate. He preferred multiple forms of egress. Of course, more captors might transport in anywhere, so no place was actually safe. There was one semi-defensible position between a computer console and a wall, but otherwise he would be exposed. What he wouldn’t give for a disruptor.

When no captors were immediately forthcoming, Garak set about a more detailed consideration of the premises. He was in the center of a rectangular room. To his left appeared to be a living area, complete with a small table and a hammock. Besides these basic creature comforts, the space was utilitarian, filled with computers, medical machines, and many pieces of equipment whose purpose Garak could not begin to guess.

He also did not have the slightest clue how to operate the transporter and retrieve Julian.

Several minutes of exploration yielded his second set of clothes, neatly folded and ready to be transported in. He’d have preferred a weapon, of course, but since he’d been showering he was nude and thus chilled. The clothes were better than nothing.

Once dressed, he decided it was time to see what was on the other side of the door. He hadn’t been retaken yet. Security was clearly lax, and Garak intended to take full advantage of that by neutralizing as many hostile aliens as required. The entire ship’s complement, if possible.

It was so good to be underestimated.


	4. Chapter 4

**Day 56, continued**

If the mad scientist worried about the effects of Julian’s stress, keeping Garak was counterproductive to say the least. It had to have been at least five hours now since Garak disappeared, presumably transported to the lab, and Julian’s concern knew no bounds. No dinner had been forthcoming, either. Were they being punished? Perhaps their abductor had found the shiv.

He might have paced, if he wasn’t so exhausted.

Then the pillow disappeared. Julian went from staring at the spot where it had been to looking up at Garak’s little smile of self-satisfaction.

“I apologize for the delay in your release,” Garak said, and he might have intended to add more but stopped short when Julian stood and pulled him into a hug.

“How did you do it?” Julian asked when he was willing to let go.

Garak pointed to where his shiv was jammed into the alien biobed. “This was a stroke of fortune, I’ll admit.”

At this point Julian saw their captor’s body with an obviously broken neck. That death was a foregone conclusion the second the paralytic field failed, and Julian couldn’t find it in himself to wish Garak had opted for a non-lethal alternative. Who knew what technology this scientist had? Alive, they could’ve seen Julian and Garak promptly re-imprisoned, this time for good. Julian had no intention of raising his child as a lab rat.

“The rest of the crew?” he asked.

“There is no one else. As far as I’ve been able to determine, this vessel consists of the room where we were kept, the room we are now in, and a small engine compartment through that door. The difficulty in retrieving you was not in securing the ship, but in learning how to operate it.”

“And what have you learned?”

“There is very little which works on familiar principles. Perhaps you’ll have better results with the aid of your translator.”

Julian wasted no time in asking, “Computer, are voice controls activated?” The response was a string of chirps. Damn. “My UT has been exposed mainly to medical terminology. Even if this ship has a translator which can understand me perfectly, I’ll need more time to increase vocabulary.”

“In that case, it’s a good thing I found the replicator.”

The replicator, in fact, was one of the more recognizable aspects of the room, aside from the biobed. Julian followed Garak over to it and watched which character on the touchscreen he pressed. “I’m afraid it only produces what I imagine was the last order.”

A bowl of minestrone soup appeared. They’d received that for lunch along with tea and turkey on rye. “At least we won’t starve or dehydrate,” said Julian.

“Quite.” Garak handed the first bowl to Julian and ordered another.

After they’d eaten, Julian started asking the computer questions in the hopes his UT would improve sooner rather than later. It had a decent foundation, now.

“Control *chirp* ship *chirp chirp* system.”

“Computer, activate voice control of all ship’s systems.”

Garak interrupted his work with a hand on Julian’s arm. “This will take some time.”

“The sooner we start, the sooner we get out of here. Who knows how quickly reinforcements could come?”

“I assure you I did not give it time to call for reinforcements.”

“But without a check-in…”

“Julian. You are exhausted. Sleep.”

It was sound medical advice, as proven by the fact that Julian was having an increasingly difficult time keeping his eyes open. “I might not have a choice.”

Garak transported the rest of their bedding in, then removed the body into their former room. In a few minutes they’d made a nest of blankets and pillows into which Julian sank gratefully. He was too tired to even mind the unforgiving metal floor. So tired, in fact, that Garak had barely gotten an arm around him before he was fast asleep.

* * *

**Day 57**

“Damn. Activating full voice control requires a code.”

It was a sensible security measure, if an inconvenient one for Garak. “Then we will simply have to figure out how to operate the ship without that benefit.”

“And without tricorders to translate the text?”

“I see no alternative.”

“No,” sighed Julian.

“Perhaps we’ll make better progress after lunch,” Garak suggested. Julian’s appetite had returned, and adequate food could only help his energy levels. He, at least, liked minestrone soup. Garak found it middling at best and much less desirable for the fourth meal in a row, but it was vastly preferable to no food or drink.

After lunch they resumed their efforts to control the ship. Garak found something which looked promisingly like a master station of sorts, though the alien characters meant nothing to him. He feared he was going to have to resort to hitting the screen at random and hoping he didn’t initiate self-destruct.

Julian concentrated his efforts on the other side of the room, continuing to pose questions to the computer as he went. This yielded little by way of practical advances toward returning to Deep Space Nine, though it was apparently useful for refining his translator’s capabilities. The device had quickly mastered ‘unable to comply.’

“Computer, what is our current heading?”

After a series of chirps, Julian reported, “The ship is at a full stop.”

Now there was useful information. “I don’t suppose it will tell you where we have stopped?”

Julian asked, then shook his head. “Untranslatable. Possibly an alien sector name.”

This went on for a while longer. Garak grew more confident that he had indeed located the central operating console. Now to figure out how to use it… perhaps that sliding scale was a good place to experiment.

“Aha!”

He looked over to find Julian scanning himself.

“I think I figure out the basics of this medical tricorder. See, here are my readings,” he said, pointing to the computer screen. “Heartbeat and respiration. I can use this to work out their numerical characters, given a little time and some experiments. Maybe you can do a bit of cardio to get your heartrate up. That would give us more numbers.”

“Are you sure that’s the most efficient use of our time?” Numbers, after all, did very little good if one did not know what concept was being counted.

“Do you have any better ideas?”

“I’m investigating the main controls.”

Julian went back to his medical scans, seeming so intent that Garak deemed it better to leave him to his own avenue of investigation. It might prove useful.

The sliding scale controlled the display’s backlighting, which was not particularly helpful. Garak would’ve at least liked to have dimmed the harsh lights in the ceiling which were giving him a headache.

“Elim.”

He abandoned his efforts. Julian sounded serious. “Yes?”

“Look at this.”

“And this is what, exactly?”

“Oh, right.” Julian used his fingers to zoom out, so Garak could now recognize a DNA profile of some kind. “This is the fetal DNA. Definitely half-human, half-Cardassian. To be more specific, half-human Augment, half-Cardassian. I’ve isolated specific pieces of genome which are unquestionably mine and yours.”

“When did you study my genes in such detail?” Garak was sure he’d never given permission for that.

“When I was trying to save your life after the cranial implant failed, though it was hardly detailed.”

“I see.”

Julian sat down on their pile of blankets. Garak, certain there was more conversation forthcoming, followed suit. After a long pause, Julian said, “I’m thinking of keeping the baby.”

No. Surely Garak had misheard. “I’m sorry, would you repeat that?”

“I’m thinking of keeping the baby.”

Garak ruthlessly repressed his hopes. It never did to let them get out of control. “I see.”

“That’s why I had to check. To make sure it’s ours.”

“Which it is.”

“Without a doubt. I ran the scan three times.”

Garak was absolutely not imagining what his and Julian’s child might look like.

“You don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to,” said Julian. “I understand if a child is a liability you’d rather not take on.”

“Would you prefer I not claim the child?” It would seem uncharacteristic, but understandable. Garak knew the Federation took a different view on the rights of unmarried parents than Cardassia, where the concept was nearly nonexistent. This was surely an extenuating circumstance, and he was not a Federation citizen, so his position was weak.

“What? No, that’s not what I… Elim, would you _want_ to raise this baby with me?”

If it would serve to reassure Julian, Garak would be perfectly honest. “Yes, my dear. I would.”

They had discussed the importance of family to the Cardassian mind, but Julian could be forgiven for not anticipating Garak’s own desire. He himself had not entirely realized it until he learned Julian was carrying his child.

“I thought you’d see a child as a weakness or a burden,” said Julian.

“I’m sure at times it will be both.” That was unavoidable. As far as the exploitation of this inevitable weakness, the Dominion had done Garak the favor of killing his remaining enemies, with the exception of the Dukats who gave every indication of being content having secured his (renewed, permanent) exile. Precautions would have to be taken, but he did not believe that his child would be in grave danger merely for existing.

He was about to clarify the point, as it might be a factor in Julian’s deliberation, when Julian said, “And you want it anyway, liability and all.”

Garak nodded.

“You didn’t need to think about it. You’ve wanted to keep it since the moment you knew it was ours, haven’t you? Why didn’t you say something?”

The answer, Garak thought, was obvious. “I could not ask you to bear and raise a child which was forced upon you.”

“It _is_ an extremely personal decision.”

“Just so.”

Julian shook his head. “You want people to think you’re so selfish unless Cardassia is involved. But you’re not. When you care, you’re the most selfless person I’ve ever known.”

Never had Garak received such a meaningful compliment. When Julian leaned in, Garak wasted no time pulling this remarkable man close. If he was selfless, it was only because Julian Bashir was worthy.

“I don’t want my child to be raised to lie all the time or think sacrifice for the state is a person’s highest calling in life. How do we make this work?”

Garak thought back to his own childhood. His youngest years were happy enough. Later… well, there was a reason he was not in the habit of reflecting on his youth. His ability to lie was a great professional asset which he’d developed as a means of self-protection, and he did not want his child to need to resort to deception the way he had. It was horribly sentimental of him, perhaps, but the first falsehood Garak could recall telling was that he had a father who loved him. If that was how one became an unsurpassed liar, it was an inheritance his child could do without. 

“Everyone lies, my dear,” he said. Julian ought to know.

“I am perfectly well aware of that. Sometimes it’s necessary, or you just want to keep something to yourself. But not all the time. I couldn’t handle you giving our toddler lessons on lying.”

Ah. Julian was under the impression that Garak had received instruction in the art of deception. That came much later, and only for refinement. He was largely self-taught.

“I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“You don’t?”

Curses, he was going to have to share personal truths again. Well, Julian already knew more of his than anyone else alive; why not add to the list? If they were going to share a child, Julian had a right to know. “I do not intend to recreate my childhood.”

“I should hope not.” After a brief pause, Julian added, “Neither do I.”

That had gone without saying. “I would expect nothing else. This child, should you elect to continue the pregnancy, would be a Federation citizen, would it not?”

Any offspring of Julian’s would automatically receive his citizenship, and Garak had no such ability to bestow any community. Much as that distressed him, there was nothing to be done about it. He remained on Deep Space Nine largely through Bajoran tolerance and, more recently, Federation goodwill. At Julian’s nod, Garak went on, “I would ask to raise my child with full knowledge of its Cardassian heritage, naturally, but I believe a basic competency in deception will suffice, and can wait until he or she is sufficiently mature to understand we do not mean lying about eating dessert before dinner. As for sacrifice for the state, I have no great love for the Federation, as you well know. We might emphasize serving a useful purpose instead,” he added, just in case Julian had any ideas about espousing self-satisfaction to the exclusion of contributing to society.

“We won’t always agree.”

“Neither do Dax and Worf, and it hasn’t stopped them.”

“If we do this, I don’t want to repeat our parents’ mistakes. I refuse to set standards our child has to meet to earn our approval. And absolutely no trying to live vicariously, either.”

Garak would take pains not to repeat Tain’s errors. He had no intention of denying his child attention or affection, and would be exceptionally proud to claim the baby as his, which placed him well ahead of Tain already. “I’m sure we can manage originality in our missteps.”

Julian was quiet for a minute. In that time Garak lost the battle against hope. On reflection, he doubted he would’ve been so enthusiastic about having a child with just anyone (though he was clearly more invested in the idea of family than he’d allowed himself to believe). He’d long known he wanted more from Julian than he had any right to expect, and this remained firmly Julian’s decision.

“You don’t have to decide this moment,” he said.

“No. It’s not that. I’d already decided, really, I’m just a bit overwhelmed by the reality of it. We’re having a baby.”

He wasn’t the only one overwhelmed. Slowly, tentatively, Garak placed his hand on Julian’s stomach, feeling the slight swell where their child was growing.

Their child. Garak understood on a far more visceral level than he ever had why Order agents were not permitted to have families. This baby and Julian were his priorities now. There was nothing he would not do for them.

Over the years he’d assisted with the wardrobes of multiple pregnant humans, none of whom had given any outward indication of their condition so early. Then again, they had all been women, so perhaps the visibility of this baby resulted from placing it in a body which had not evolved for the task. Garak found he liked the solid evidence under his hand.

Julian yawned. “God, I’m tired. But it doesn’t seem so bad now.”

“Oh?”

“It’s for a good cause,” he explained. “Our son.”

“Our son,” Garak repeated in wonder, and marveled at the idea while Julian used him as a pillow.

* * *

**Day 58**

After careful examination, testing, and triple-checking, Julian found the supplement formula the scientist had been injecting into him daily. The vials he found exactly matched remnants in the hypospray he’d been given last, and there was a batch of twelve in some kind of stasis field. He dosed himself in the same spot their captor always had. There was no telling how vital it was to the baby’s healthy development, and he was taking no chances.

While he had looked into their baby’s medical needs, Garak worked on getting them home. He’d made some headway, in that he found out how to get the console to display more information, though the exact nature of the controls continued to elude him. Julian wasn’t much help.

“Could this be an engine control?” Not that they had any idea what kind of engine they were dealing with, other than ‘entirely unfamiliar.’

“It could be any number of the ships’ systems,” said Garak.

So far, the only real progress they’d made was in finding the dimmer for the lights. Garak was happier for that, and Julian mostly indifferent. He didn’t have Cardassian night vision, but he could adapt to lower lighting without any trouble, and the subtle tension in Garak’s eyeridges had eased so Julian assumed his headache was receding.

The undisguised joy on Garak’s face when they spoke of the baby was breathtaking. Julian knew it wouldn’t be easy – having a child was never easy, and working out how to raise one from such vastly different cultural viewpoints would only complicate matters further – but he was confident he’d made the right choice for himself.

Now they just had to get home. Once they did, it would be a long time before he wanted minestrone soup again.

“This looks like a schematic of the ship.”

“Yes.” Garak peered at it with interest. “As I thought. There are only three rooms.”

“Do you see weapons?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

Julian hoped they didn’t need to defend themselves. A breakthrough couldn’t come soon enough.

* * *

**Day 59**

“Elim?”

“Yes?” Julian sounded nervous, and Garak was eager to reassure if at all possible. It would not be unreasonable for Julian to have concerns over impending fatherhood, not least shared with a former Obsidian Order agent. By Cardassian standards Garak had very little to offer other than his skills in the realm of protection. Humans, he understood, took a very different view of deciding an individual’s worthiness to procreate with, a fact for which he was immensely grateful.

“Would you consider raising our baby together as a proper couple? Obviously we don’t have to, plenty of people co-parent perfectly well without being in a relationship…”

Garak cut the anxious ramble off before it turned into a dissertation on raising a child when not romantically involved with the other parent. “It would be my honor.” It was, in fact, more than he’d dared dream.

Julian kissed him. The kissing swiftly turned into Julian’s hands caressing his ridges with clear intent. Well, humans viewed sex as life-affirming, or Julian did anyway, and his was the only human opinion with which Garak was concerned. Garak therefore set about offering pleasure in as minimally taxing a manner as possible, in deference to Julian’s usual afternoon exhaustion.

When they were both lying sated in their pile of blankets, Julian said, “I needed that.”

While Garak couldn’t say the same, he found he’d very much wanted it. Julian was a stunningly attractive man.

“According to Jadzia, it’s a good idea to get in as much sex as you can before the baby comes, because you’ll be having a lot less for the first couple of years. She would know.”

Sex was excellent, of course, but Garak was quite willing to enjoy it less frequently if he got to have Julian as his lifemate and his child’s other father. Besides, there was plenty of time after these ‘first couple of years’ to which they might look forward. “I’m sure we’ll make do,” he said.

“You know being my partner isn’t a condition.”

“You made that clear.”

“Good. I don’t want you to agree because you feel obligated.”

“As I said, my dear, it is an honor.” Perhaps the greatest he’d ever received.

Julian grinned at him sleepily. “I’m glad it’s you, Elim.”

“As am I.”

It occurred to him that Julian, in typical idealistic fashion, might have overlooked a crucial concern. The Federation was likely to be quite forgiving of him electing to raise Garak’s child, under the circumstances (far more forgiving than Cardassian society would have been if their roles were reversed, at any rate). Entering into a romantic relationship would be a step too far for some. “You do realize that this is not the wisest choice you could make for your prospects of career advancement.”

“I don’t care.” There was that defiant spark which had captivated Garak from the early days of their acquaintance. “I’m always going to have career limits, considering it’s a small miracle I even have a career left. So why forgo happiness in a bid to impress a handful of the many people predisposed against me? I love you, and if there’s a chance you might feel the same, I’ll let the chips fall where they may.”

It was easy to forget, sometimes, that Julian’s tendency to openness gave him excellent shield on the rare occasions he wanted to keep a matter private. Here Garak saw a truth to which he had not previously been granted access: that above all else, Julian wanted to be loved.

He leaned in and pressed his forehead against Julian’s. “This is the _anshwar_. It is arguably the most intimate of Cardassian gestures.” The vulnerability alone demanded great trust. He had never experienced _anshwar_ before and always thought it useless. With Julian’s soft skin pressed against the sensitive ridge of his _dosset,_ he found ample reason to reconsider.

“Intimate?” asked Julian carefully, hopefully.

While Garak was not in the habit of being forthright about his feelings, it would not do to leave doubt in Julian’s mind when he was both carrying their child and willing to hurt his career prospects to be with Garak. Having never understood the human fixation on ‘I love you,’ which seemed too easily uttered and taken back, Garak instead said, “I would destroy worlds for you.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Julian’s tone was light now, relaxed.

“I leave hope to you.”

“Hmm, honesty suits you.”

“Don’t get too used to it.”

Julian laughed. “I’ll never be bored with you.”

“I should think not,” replied Garak in his best affronted tone.

“Good.”

He’d thought that Julian started having sex with him mainly out of boredom, once O’Brien was on Earth and Dax busy with a newborn. He had known that Julian was fond of him, yes. Love he had not foreseen. Julian was adept at keeping secrets on the rare occasions he wanted to. (Sometimes, Garak suspected, he kept them from himself – a topic to explore at leisure.)

“Would you be amenable to me moving into your quarters when we return to the station?” he asked. “It would make it easier to assist you throughout your pregnancy.”

There was no reply. Julian was asleep, and Garak was left to marvel that this time he got exactly what – or rather, who – he wanted. Twice over, no less.


	5. Chapter 5

**Day 60**

If there was a Starfleet record for the happiest person trapped on an alien ship they had no clue how to operate, Julian had surely broken it. Jadzia had been right: Garak wanted him for more than sex. Adored him, in fact, with breathtaking intensity. Better still, Garak’s love came from knowing him, flaws and all.

Julian was loved and in love, and they were going to have a baby. There was no one else he’d be so keen to share the adventure of parenthood with, so now they just needed to get home and everything would be very, very good.

Unfortunately, progress on getting home was slow.

These weren’t medical charts. Julian studied them intently, looking for the pattern. Maybe if he zoomed out? If there was one aspect of this computer system he’d mastered, it was zooming in and out on visual displays.

Once he had a broader view, he recognized the pattern immediately as being a map of the Bajoran sector, or rather three-quarters of the Bajoran sector with bits of two neighboring sectors, but you couldn’t expect aliens to measure areas of space exactly the same way the Federation did. In any event, it was obviously a star chart. There was a bright blue dot in the vicinity of the Bajoran sun. Julian zoomed in on that.

“Wait a second. This is the Denorios Belt.”

“What is?” asked Garak.

“This dot. What if it’s showing our current location? You know, ‘You Are Here.’”

“If that’s the case, this ship must have exceptional shielding.”

“It may well have a cloak. Computer, does the ship’s location correspond to the blue indicator on the star chart?” Once in a while, the computer deigned to answer a question. It had not helped replicate anything other than minestrone soup or allowed them to control the engines, but it had offered advice on the alien lavatory and called up earlier prenatal scans. It seemed more helpful with scientific inquiry than commanding the ship. (Though Julian for the life of him couldn’t figure out why it wouldn’t replicate something other than damned minestrone.)

“Displaying present location with blue indicator.” The dot blinked.

“All this time, we’ve been so close.” Julian could hardly believe it. “This means we don’t need to worry about engines! We just have to drop the cloak and transmit a message to DS9. It looks like we’re about a quarter of the way around the belt from the station.”

“Well done,” said Garak. “This simplifies our task.”

Just knowing that they were close made Julian feel better about their chances of returning to DS9. It couldn’t be long now.

* * *

**Day 61**

“What are you doing?”

Granted, Julian’s approach to unravelling the mysteries of this ship was not like Garak’s, and thus far that had been to their benefit. Garak had at length confirmed that the ship was equipped with an energy weapon, while Julian’s work the previous day had yielded their location. Their differing methods were complementary.

That did not mean Garak could watch Julian start tapping on panels without curiosity.

“I think this is hollow,” Julian explained.

Having decided it was best to leave him to his exploration, Garak went back to the weapons control. He wanted to be prepared if they were attacked. He’d spent much of his morning in the engineering compartment, where he had made no progress on understanding the cloak or engines but gained a rudimentary grasp of the weapons (in that he knew they existed). Now he needed to learn how to control them.

“Look!”

He obligingly paused his study and found Julian shaking out his Starfleet uniform. “Your clothes are here too. This must be an extremely advanced transporter to send us to the room and separate our clothes.”

Garak was pleased to reclaim his own attire. For one thing, the trousers were his latest favorites, and for another he designed his clothing to be warm. Besides, the clothes they’d been given were hideous.

“I feel more like myself,” said Julian once in uniform.

One part of Garak’s mind was already thinking about customizing uniforms to accommodate his pregnancy. Of more immediate use was the combadge. “If a Starfleet vessel comes in range, we won’t have to figure out the comm system. We need to attract the station’s attention.”

“How powerful are those weapons?”

Garak had been thinking the same thing. “There’s one way to find out. But I think we’d be better served dropping the cloak first. We don’t know that you will be able to communicate through it.”

“Never mind be spotted and transported off,” finished Julian.

With a bit of luck, the next bowl of minestrone soup could be the last Garak was forced to consume.

* * *

**Day 62**

“Alert: shields *chirp*. Presence may be detected.”

“That is exactly the point,” said Julian.

Garak had stayed up the whole night and finally cracked the cloak. Anyone looking should be able to see this ship now, which meant it was time to attract attention.

As far as they could tell, the ship was sitting on an asteroid in the Denorios Belt. Parking in a ravine had given the alien scientist added protection against discovery. The plan, therefore, was to pulverize the asteroid, and as many others as it took to attract attention. DS9 monitored the belt as an aspect of securing the wormhole, so it shouldn’t take too long provided the weapons were powerful enough. Julian thought those odds were good.

“Firing,” said Garak.

On the star chart, their asteroid split in two. “If that’s low power, I’d hate to be on the other end of high,” Julian remarked.

“I said I thought it was low power. For all I know it could be the opposite.”

“Either way, you’ve already cut this asteroid in half.”

“Firing again,” said Garak.

“Now you’ve broken the other half into… eighteen pieces.”

“This seems like an opportune time to pause and see if we’ve made ourselves noticed.”

“You mean you’re still working out the details of the targeting system.”

Garak gave a look of reluctant admission and went back to studying his screen. To be fair, nothing about this ship worked intuitively to Julian, either. He thought the fact that it was designed for a four-handed species might have played a part there.

Some minutes later, Garak announced, “I believe I have a clear shot to the next closest asteroid. Let’s see, shall we?”

“It’s now in three pieces.” The star chart, at least, was perfectly readable and updated in real time. “Make that eleven.”

“This is a powerful weapon.” Naturally, Garak was pleased. “I expect it should have shown up on station sensors.”

“I’d think so.”

“Then we wait.”

Julian had never been terribly good at waiting.

“Julian.”

“Yes?”

“Am I correct in assuming this pregnancy will present more challenges than one would typically expect?”

“That’s a wide range you’re talking about, but broadly speaking, I anticipate it will fall on the more difficult end of the spectrum.” Not being able to stay awake in the afternoon was an unmistakable sign there. Julian saw light duty in his future.

“I hope you will allow me to help in whatever ways I’m able.”

Allow. There was an interesting word choice. Maybe it had something to do with that deep-seated Cardassian desire to keep weakness hidden at all costs? While Julian understood how and why Garak had developed that instinct, they’d have to talk about raising their son to accept assistance when he needed it.

For the time being, he replied, “I’m counting on it.”

“I can be of more assistance if I move into your quarters,” Garak suggested carefully.

“I figured we’d move into family quarters. No sense in you moving now, only for both of us to pack up again in a few months.”

Garak smiled and nodded slightly the way he did when he was truly happy. He must’ve been concerned Julian wouldn’t want him to move in, though Julian was fairly sure he hadn’t done anything to actively give that impression. It was probably Garak’s pessimism again.

To think Julian had worried Garak wouldn’t want to be involved in their child’s life. On the contrary, he was one hundred percent invested. He was going to be an excellent father.

Further reflection was cut off when the ship chimed and the comm system they hadn’t figured out came to life with Worf’s voice. “Unknown vessel, you are in violation of Bajoran space. Identify yourself.”

Despite both Julian and Garak staring intently at the control panel, inspiration as to how to work the comm was not forthcoming. Julian was able to track Worf on the star chart, and as long as the distances were to scale, Worf needed to come closer before his combadge was a viable communications option.

“This is Lieutenant Commander Worf in the Starfleet vessel _Volga._ Please respond.”

“I wish I could,” muttered Julian. As predicted, nothing happened when he hit his combadge. “Don’t stop, Worf.”

“I doubt we’ve been gone long enough for Worf to develop a habit of avoiding danger.”

“Hadn’t you heard? He doubts that it will be a truly good day to die until Darilla is older.” Jadzia had reported this with considerable relief.

Garak didn’t look entirely convinced. In fairness, Worf’s honor still demanded a greater willingness to die than anyone else on the station could claim.

Worf continued to advance. “Unidentified vessel, respond.”

“Alert: *chirp* ship *chirp chirp* presence detected.” A second later, Julian’s UT added: “Low confidence warning: incoming vessel.”

“We’ve been detected. Worf is probably scanning us. He’s too far away to identify our species by lifesign, unfortunately.”

“I hope he isn’t too hasty to fire on us,” said Garak.

“That’s why we stopped firing.”

“I imagine it’s not an honorable battle if we don’t fight back.”

“Unidentified vessel, respond.”

“He’s getting testy,” Garak remarked.

“And a testy Worf makes you nervous, doesn’t he?”

“An impulsive Klingon on a continual quest to prove his worthiness through battle has weapons locked on us while shields are down. What could possibly go wrong?”

“Relax. I have it on good authority that Worf has seen the value of taking pains not to kill civilians.” Evidently the one scare had been enough. “Not much farther now and my combadge should work.”

Thirty seconds later, Julian tried again. “Bashir to _Volga_ , come in.”

He got a burst of static through which Worf’s voice was barely recognizable. It was progress. Worf should’ve been able to identify that it was a Starfleet signal and channel.

“Bashir to _Volga_.”

“…Doctor?”

“Worf, it’s us! Garak and I are here.”

“Approaching now. Stand by for transport.”

While taking out a sample of the fetal supplement formula, Julian couldn’t resist pointing out, “See, he didn’t blow us up. Sometimes you’ve got to have faith.”

Before Garak could respond they were on the runabout. “Doctor, it is good to see you. Garak.” All Garak got was a nod, but then, he wouldn’t have given Worf any more if the shoe was on the other foot. They… tolerated each other.

“Can you tow the ship?” Julian asked. “The technology is incredible, and there’s medical data I’d like.”

“Deploying tractor beam. Are there hostile parties on board?”

“Not anymore,” said Garak. Worf looked grudgingly impressed.

“ _Volga_ to Ops.”

“Ops, go ahead,” came Kira’s voice.

At Worf’s nod, Julian spoke. “It’s good to hear your voice, Colonel.”

“ _Julian?!?!_ ” That was Jadzia.

“Garak and I are here.”

“Permission to meet them at the airlock?” Jadzia asked.

Kira replied, “I’ll come with you.”

And so Julian had barely set foot back on DS9 before Jadzia pulled him into a big hug. She was so happy she even hugged a shocked Garak. Kira, though more physically restrained, was clearly elated to see them as well. Even Garak. The two of them had finally settled on mutual respect, though they’d never be friends.

“Were you in the Denorios Belt the whole time?” asked Kira.

“I’m not sure. Probably. We were taken for medical experimentation.”

Jadzia grew solemn. “Are you alright?”

“I want to double-check with my own equipment… er, is it still mine?” It wouldn’t be unreasonable for the station to have a new CMO. Would Starfleet reassign Julian? He desperately hoped not.

Kira nodded. “Yes. Dr. Girani got a recently retired colleague to come help out so we could hold out hope.”

“She’s going to be so glad to have you back,” added Jadzia.

“Because she missed me or because she hates Starfleet paperwork?”

“Both.”

Kira said, “You need to call the O’Briens, too.”

“The chief’s been worried sick,” said Jadzia, who for her part seemed unwilling to stop looking at Julian.

It was so good to be home.

* * *

**Day 70**

Julian returned to light duty after a week off. He continued to be tired, and unsurprisingly had some intense nightmares about being unable to move, but all things considered he wasn’t in bad shape. Most importantly, he and Dr. Girani had both replicated the supplement formula and gotten a thorough idea of what this unique pregnancy would require.

News of his impending fatherhood had been enthusiastically received by most. Jadzia was nearly as excited as he and Garak were, and probably already planning a baby shower. Miles and Keiko wanted to visit as soon as, in Keiko’s words, “you’re up to handling company and a baby.” Kira gave them their pick of family quarters and a Bajoran tea supposed to provide safe, gentle energy during pregnancy. Julian wasn’t sure it helped, but he appreciated the thought and it was a tasty replacement for his usual caffeinated Tarkalean tea. The unhappy outlier here was Quark. Visibly distressed at the thought of Julian having less time to spend in his holosuites (not to mention forgoing alcohol for the next half a year at minimum), he promised he’d soon offer a new selection of enriching holoprograms for little ones.

Dr. Girani’s colleague agreed to stay until after the baby was born on a part-time basis. Julian now only worked mornings, barring the occasional afternoon senior staff meeting (and Kira had kindly started scheduling those around his desperately-needed naps).

At the end of his first such meeting since his return, he learned that the engineering team had made next to no progress figuring out the alien ship, though to be fair they had spent most of the last several days dealing with a priority shield upgrade and some moderate ion storm damage.

“The engines do not operate on any principle with which I am familiar,” concluded Lieutenant Sypek.

Julian couldn’t help thinking Miles would’ve had _something_ from which to work by now, and if the look on Kira’s face was any indication, he wasn’t the only one.

“I’ve been going over the readings we got on its weapons,” said Jadzia, “and I think they operate on some principles that theoretical physicists have been discussing recently. The basic idea involves harnessing electrons at the quantum level.”

Before anyone could reply – Sypek clearly had a question – the door to Kira’s office (the office Julian still thought of as Captain Sisko’s half the time) opened. “Sorry to bother you, Colonel, but I think you’ll want to see this.”

The entire senior staff followed Kira into Ops, where Julian saw a familiar-looking lavender face. “That’s the race which took us,” he said urgently. He was sure he heard Worf growl.

“As I have told your underlings, we are here to claim our ship. Release it at once.”

The station’s universal translator had made excellent progress with what Julian uploaded from his implant. Or perhaps the aliens deigned to translate now.

“And who are you?” asked Kira.

“That is not important. Release our ship or we will remove it and damage your station in the process. We will not allow our technology to fall into the use of a lesser race.”

Kira had spent most of her life being called inferior and never took kindly to it. “Lesser? At least we don’t go around kidnapping people for scientific experiments.”

“Do you apologize to animals when you refine your knowledge on them? No. Neither do we.”

“So we’re just animals to you?” asked Julian, skipping the part where he asked Kira’s permission to speak because damnit, he was the one who’d been abducted.

“I admit Xch’ri’rep’ck’hz erred in her assessment of your kind. You have proven yourselves slightly too advanced for the treatment you received. Nevertheless, it was an understandable error.”

“And understandable error,” echoed Julian. He wondered if the disbelief in his tone translated.

“Surely young scientists among your people must go out into the universe and prove that they have completed their education. I’d be surprised if they never made mistakes in so doing.”

All of this had been some kind of thesis project? Granted, the creation of a human-Cardassian hybrid was a unique achievement, as Julian’s research had confirmed his child would be the first such individual. Further, he and Garak were obvious candidates as parents, since they were regularly having sex. What didn’t make sense was how such an advanced race could be so callous about the lives of intelligent people who happened to have less impressive technology. If this was what happened after a certain point in the progression of a society, it was a point Julian hoped the Federation never reached. Or maybe it was just the selfishness of this particular race.

“Are you going to release our ship?”

Kira nodded to Ensign Batbayar. “Does that mean you won’t be abducting any more of my people?”

“We will not. The death of Xch’ri’rep’ck’hz will stand as your recompense.”

Garak was going to love that.

“We released our docking clamps,” said Kira.

“Do you require assistance removing the fetus?”

“No,” said Julian quickly. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Interesting.”

Julian didn’t think he’d ever wanted to punch someone so badly.

“We will not interfere with your kind again.” With that, the alien closed the channel.

“Alien ships went to… actually, Colonel, I don’t know what they did,” reported Batbayar. “But they’re gone.”

It was finally over. Julian told Garak this a few minutes later, once he got down to the shop.

“Then we may focus entirely on preparing for our son’s arrival,” said Garak. “I’ve come up with some charming designs for infantwear.”

Julian wasn’t thinking about baby clothes. He was pondering how he could simultaneously be so angry that they’d been abducted to serve as lab rats and yet grateful that they’d ended up where they did, eagerly anticipated fatherhood together.

“…and this one – Julian?”

“Sorry. Lost in thought.” He looked at the design on Garak’s tablet. “It’s adorable. Is that a riding hound pup?”

“What else could it be?”

For all Julian knew, anything. “My knowledge of Cardassian zoology is quite limited.”

“We’ll have to do something about that. I also have a similar design with one of your Earth animals.” Garak switched the image to a tiny shirt with a duck. “Cardassians don’t usually adorn children with depictions of animals, but I can see the sense in the practice. It’s never to early to begin basic education.”

Julian stared for a moment.

“What?”

“That’s not why we put animals on kids’ clothes.”

“It isn’t?” asked Garak.

“The kids look cute. That’s it. That’s the entire reason.”

“You are a very peculiar race.”

“You’d better get used to it.”

“I already am,” said Garak with a smile. “Now, am I correct in assuming he will need a teddy bear of his own?”

“Of course he will.”

“I’ll add it to the list.”

The future looked very bright indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue to follow.


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the name Niken like you start to call a man Nick, and then remember his name is actually Ken: ni-KEN.

Garak continued to be often the only person awake in his and Julian’s quarters, a fact he did not mind. It gave him plenty of time to admire their son.

It still amazed him that he had a son.

They had named him Niken Bashir. Garak insisted on giving him Julian’s family name, as it would prove more advantageous to a Federation citizen than a Cardassian one, and in any event Julian was the father who’d carried him at the cost of much physical suffering. Julian, not content to ignore their child’s dual heritage, felt a Cardassian first name was important, and at great length they’d settled on Niken. For a while Garak had been concerned they wouldn’t agree before he was born.

Presently, Julian and Niken were both asleep in the rocking chair the O’Briens had sent. The gift was proving to be eminently useful. Niken found its motion soothing and it was comfortable for extended sitting, such as when one didn’t want to move for fear of waking him. He generally expressed his displeasure at being startled out of sleep with loud wails Garak preferred to avoid.

Julian needed the sleep as much as the baby did. He and Dr. Girani were confident he’d make a full recovery, but after eight months of pregnancy followed by another invasive surgery to remove the implanted womb, his recovery would take some time. It had only been a week, and he still slept nearly as much as Niken. The strain on his body had been so immense that Dr. Girani went so far as to suggest transporting Niken to a bioartificial womb, though Julian felt the risk was too great for a hybrid pregnancy with no medical precedent and therefore would not hear of it. It was an immense relief to Garak to see Julian already more comfortable than he had been in months.

Garak was resolved not to fail either of them. He would not repeat Tain’s mistakes. Family was a gift he’d never expected, and looking at his son and the man he hoped would become his husband (he thought it better to postpone discussion of marriage until Julian regained his vigor), he wondered what was so broken in his own father as to be incapable of familial devotion. 

“Mmm,” said Julian, slowly opening his eyes. He looked down at Niken with the same wonder Garak felt.

“Shall I move him?”

“Not yet.”

Garak understood the sentiment.

“He’s worth every minute of pain.” This Julian declared with an adoring smile at their son. Over the last week they had both spent a great deal of time (in Julian’s case, most waking hours) gazing at him, learning the contours of his gentle ridges, admiring his full head of black hair, and taking note of the way different lighting brought out various shades of brown and grey in his skin. Garak was delighted to see Niken appeared to have inherited Julian’s eyes.

“All the same, if we decide to give him a sibling, we’re using a bioartificial womb.”

“A sibling?” asked Garak. The subject had not previously come up.

“I used to want one badly when I was young. Obviously that’s a discussion to have in two or three years.”

“I’m not opposed in principle.” Provided they proved reasonably competent as parents (Julian undoubtedly would; it was his own aptitude in question), the idea held appeal. 

“You’ve been so wonderful these last months,” Julian said, as though Garak was the one who’d had a difficult time. The final two weeks of his pregnancy had seen Julian barely able to get out of bed. What had Garak done compared to that? Bring him meals? Run his laundry through the refresher? It did not begin to compare.

“It was the least I could do.”

“It was much more,” insisted Julian. This was clearly going to be one of the subjects on which they would never agree. “I want you to know that I appreciate all you’ve done for me. Among other things, I know you’ve been lying about how often you get up in the night to feed him.”

Julian was decidedly feeling better if he’d caught on to that. “You need the rest,” Garak said.

“Unfortunately, yes. That doesn’t mean I can’t be grateful for how much you’re doing.”

He didn’t entirely understand this attitude. Before Julian, no one had ever thanked Garak for doing what needed to be done. “This is a joint endeavor, is it not?”

“It is. One in which we’re not repeating our parents’ mistakes, including my father’s habit of taking my mother for granted.”

If it meant that much to Julian, Garak supposed he could get used to being thanked.

Niken started to wake up. Garak, hoping to provide a meal in time to forestall another demonstration of their son’s impressive vocal capacity, wasted no time in getting a bottle replicated. Julian had spent weeks on the formula. As always, Niken drank with gusto. He’d inherited Julian’s tendency to eat as quickly as possible, it seemed.

After the baby was fed, in a clean diaper, and once again asleep, Julian took the opportunity to cuddle on the couch. “I can’t wait until I have energy again,” he said.

Neither could Garak. It distressed him to see Julian so feeble.

“But he’s perfect,” Julian added with well-deserved satisfaction.

“He is indeed.”

“And you are…”

“Decidedly not perfect,” finished Garak before Julian could get carried away.

“…perfect for me. I’m really starting to understand the meaning behind ‘family is all.’ It never made much sense before, because, well, my birth family leaves a lot to be desired.”

“I have some familiarity with that problem.” And that was all Garak cared to say on the subject.

“What I mean is,” and here Julian tenderly caressed Garak’s eyeridge, “marry me. Let’s make our family legally official, as long as we both shall live. Once I can stand up long enough for the ceremony, of course.”

For most of his life Garak had been only rarely acquainted with happiness. Now he was making up for it all at once, apparently. A year ago he thought he might enjoy sex with Julian for a short while until another gorgeous woman came into the picture, and now here they were with a son and Julian asking for the rest of their lives together. There was only one possible answer.

“I would like nothing more, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed my foray into mpreg.


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